


this is how to walk away

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [96]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Betrayal, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Differing ways Clint Barton might make his way back to Loki, because that's my favorite thing right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. break, blow, burn, and make me new

**Author's Note:**

> Title: break, blow, burn, and make me new  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Donne  
> Warnings: post-film  
> Pairings: Loki/Clint  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 330  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, “This hurts less than anything else I’ve done, so this is what I’m going to do.”

Clint Barton has made an artform out of being betrayed. He plans for it. He has backup plans for it. He expects it and waits for it and rolls with it. Every single person he has ever trusted has turned on him or died on him. Sometimes both.

He knows better than to trust people, but he still hopes. Every single time, he hopes.

The only time he's ever betrayed someone, an alien god overwrote his loyalty with a mind-control scepter thing no one on Earth could've fought against and won.

And now people he's worked with for years look at him with disgust, with fear. With anger. And he gets it, really he does - but that doesn't make it hurt less.

So he can stay and wait for the bullet in the head, the knife in the back, the call for backup that goes ignored... 

Or he can get out while the getting's good. He can go to ground and lick his wounds and do his best to heal again. He'll survive - he always does. Always has.

There's a spot he knows, because Loki knew it, and nobody else in the world does. He'll go there and he'll wait.

Every human (except Tasha) has betrayed him. And Tasha won't pick him over her redemption. He's not sure if that's betrayal or not, but he won't begrudge her an empty ledger. He's not worth more than that.

So, every human has betrayed him, one way or another. Maybe it's time to try trusting something else.

Yeah. That's his plan. And Tasha won't tell anyone, at least. So Clint walks out SHIELD and vanishes. Better to run than to die.

(And when SHIELD sees him again, he's got a master who can look into his soul and see everything about him, a master who never turns away, a master he will give up anything for - 

And Loki smiles at the petty little humans who drove his raptor straight into his arms.)


	2. lost the world and was content to lose it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: lost the world and was content to lose it  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Samuel Johnson  
> Warnings: post-film  
> Pairings: pre-Loki/Clint, post-Coulson/Clint  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 425  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: any, any,  
>  _When they're broken, and lost everything  
>  They're so much easier to lead_. (Disturbed; Enough)

Reclaiming his raptor is easy. All Loki has to do is sit back and wait. 

.

Clint Barton has nothing in the world to call his own. Nothing but his eyes, his heart, and his hands. No family; no friends. Colleagues he's friendly with are lost after the dust settles - with Loki gone out of reach, who is there to blame but the traitor who gave SHIELD to him on a wave of blue? 

The Avengers vouch for him, of course. But Barton holds his head high and stays silent. Barton had been Coulson's - for all that Fury liked him as a person, politics are ruthless. 

Fury gives him a head start. Natasha muddies the trail. No one else in the world is good enough to find him.

.

Going to ground, licking his wounds, and waiting is old hat to Clint. He'd always known he'd be on his own again. He keeps his head down for awhile, even while his fingers itch for a bow.

He watches the Avengers on the news, monitors SHIELD’s internal communications, and decides that a year is long enough. 

Clint Barton died the day he walked away from SHIELD. Hawkeye died when the tesseract tore down Project Pegasus. 

.

Jim Cross is no one special, but damn, does he have good aim. 

He starts out small fry and all the ‘good guys’ are busy with bigger game. By the time he’s connected to that rogue SHIELD agent, the one who helped the first would-be conqueror, it’s too late and he’s got too many allies and too much blackmail material. 

Jim Cross isn’t a bad guy, really. He’s just an assassin. He’s funny and smart and polite. 

But he also doesn’t have a line in the sand he won’t lunge across. 

So maybe he is a bad guy. Does it matter?

.

Jim Cross knows way before anyone else on Earth that Loki is back. And he could call up Tasha, or Thor, or even Stark; he could go straight to Fury, or leave a voicemail on Coulson’s phone, which he knows Fury keeps charged at all times.

But he takes a deep breath, remembers the freedom of the blue, and breaks into the third floor apartment registered to a man that doesn’t exist. 

Loki is sitting at the counter, a steaming mug of cocoa in front of him, and offers Jim a seat. 

.

The first time they met, Loki stole Hawkeye from SHIELD in but a moment. 

The second time they meet, Loki asks. 

Hawkeye is dead. 

Raptor says yes.


	3. that heart whose fervour was all thine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: that heart whose fervour was all thine  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Barrett Browning  
> Warnings: post-film; the aftermath of mind control  
> Pairings: Loki/Clint  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 100  
> Point of view: second

In your dreams, he’s always _Sir_ and you’re burning with need, with want, with a desire as deep as your bones. 

In your dreams, you’re drowning in blue, mouth open and eyes wide.

In your dreams, a door opens and the end of the world steps through.

In your dreams, he nods at you, holding out a hand.

In your dreams, you kneel, throat bared. 

In your dreams, you’re nothing but a weapon. 

In your dreams, he says, _I’ll return for you._

In your dreams, you promise to always be waiting, ready for his command.

In your dreams, he smiles.


	4. shall I bring you the sound of poisons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: shall I bring you the sound of poisons?  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath   
> Warnings: AUish for Hawkeye’s backstory; darkish characterization  
> Pairings: implied Coulson/Clint  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 810  
> Point of view: second

This is how you kill: easily. Aim. Deep breath. Release, or touch the trigger, or a well-placed punch, or the quick surety of a blade.

That part doesn't matter. All that matters is the breath.

.

You refused to kill for Trick Shot or the Swordsman. You would have killed for Barney, but he ran without you and left you to the mercy of men you no longer respected and could no longer love.

You could kill for Uncle Sam, though. Cleanly, mostly. Quickly. Easily. It got easer every time, till it was just like taking a breath.

Inhale. Hold. Aim. Fire. Exhale.

.

It's not that you enjoy it. Not really. But it's easy like nothing else ever has been, and it's _yours_ in a way nothing else ever was. Your eyes, your hands - your choice.

It's your choice to follow the orders, every single time.

You went straight from the circus to the army to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. You've never made an unsanctioned kill, and you've killed everything you aimed at.

Well, that's not entirely accurate, is it? There's the Black Widow. And then there's Loki.

There's never been an order you didn't choose to follow. 

_Inhale_.

You lie to the shrinks in the aftermath, to Tasha and Fury and everyone who asks, and everyone who doesn't.

 _Hold_.

You'd lie to Coulson, your handler for ten years, the only man in the world you trust, the only man in the world you respect, if he'd survived.

 _Aim_.

Loyalty has never been your strongest asset.

 _Fire_.

You don't enjoy killing, in and of itself. Or spying, or not existing on paper anywhere (the easier to disavow or make you disappear, my dear). You don't like being the guaranteed success of a mission because there is no shot you cannot make, and that's all anyone ever wants from you.

 _Exhale_.

.

This is how you walk away: midmorning, with nothing but your clothes. Pickpocket half a dozen pedestrians for cabfare, another dozen for lunch and a bus ticket. Avoid all cameras like the spy you no longer are.

You left the circus with three broken bones and authority issues. You left the army with record-breaking counts in everything and a well-deserved reputation. You leave SHIELD with no regrets because, well, you've never done regret. It's not in your nature.

Barney knew what you were. So did Trick Shot and the Swordsman, and Coulson, too.

And Loki.

.

There is a moment before you let go, before you touch the trigger, before you flick the blade, sharp and quick.

There is a moment, just a breath. You can change your mind. You can spare a life or follow orders. (Tasha. Fury. Hill.)

It's your choice every time.

.

This is how you choose: swiftly, between one heartbeat and the next.

Nothing is keeping you at SHIELD anymore. Coulson is dead and you don't trust anyone else. Tasha's debt to you was repaid when she cognitively recalibrated instead of killing you, so nothing ties you to her any longer.

You will not fight for anyone you do not respect or love.

There is no one on Earth you love. Respect... no, not anymore.

So. Why stay where you’re wanted only for your impossible aim and well-deserved reputation? No one trusts you. Few of them like you.

Time to move on. And if they try to catch you, whether for charges or a second recruitment...

Well. That'll end poorly for everyone.

.

You don't regret any kill you've ever made. Each time was your choice; each time was necessary.

You are a killer. It's in your nature. And it's as easy as a breath. Easy as bulls-eye and letting go.

.

This is you find what you've been looking for ever since the first bruise: _you have heart_.

But Natasha knocks the blue out of your head and the only way to stay free is to play along, and Loki is dragged back to his prison, taking the blue with him.

But he met your eyes, even hidden behind the shades. He met your eyes and tilted his head, and the blue whispered enticingly, swirling around in the back of your head, soft as a kitten and vicious as a tiger waiting to spring.

Killing is what you do.

Loki's man is what you are.

.

This is how it begins: you walk away, find a safe place, and wait. Your masters have always known what you are. If Coulson didn't tell Fury, that's Fury's problem. You won't obey him now, anyway.

The blue purrs to you. You settle down and count heartbeats, because your master'll be home soon. 

.

This is how you kill: easily.

This is how you obey: always.

This is how you live: dangerously.

You have purpose. You breathe in time with Loki and your waiting is done.


	5. where my dreams slice me into pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: where my dreams slice me into pieces  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: post-film  
> Pairings: Loki/Clint  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 490  
> Point of view: third

There are shadows in the back of Clint’s eyes. He sees them when he looks in the mirror.

No one else does.

.

Cognitive recalibration. Nice theory, if a bit simple – and wrong.

Clint’s done the reading. Asgard is a realm of warriors, and Loki grew up there, raised as one of them. He’d be prepared for hits to the head.

If there wasn’t so much chaos, it would have occurred to someone else, too.

But Loki is caged, bound and gagged, waiting for the tesseract to be released into Thor’s custody.

Clint watches him from a safe distance and knows Loki isn’t broken. He isn’t even beaten.

Shadows lurk in the back of Clint’s eyes and, beneath the gag, his ex-god is smiling.

.

In the months following the fought-off invasion, Loki haunts almost every dream or nightmare Clint has. Loki’s voice, Loki’s hands, Loki his lord and master – the only thing Clint has ever worshipped.

He fights on a team, lies to everyone that’s he’s fine, and looks forward to the few hours of sleep he gets a week.

He doesn’t ask Thor what Loki’s punishment is.

(In a prison on another world, a caged prince smiles and the last lock is undone.)

.

It’s no surprise when he’s looking in the mirror to see if the shadows have grown and Loki stands behind him.

Loki trails a finger along his shoulders, down his spine, murmurs, “Are you not pleased at my return?”

Clint bows his head, arguing with himself – SHIELD’s agent wants to sound the alarm and go down swinging. Loki’s right hand wants to hit his knees and bare his throat.

“Yes, sir,” Clint replies just as quietly.

Loki smiles and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. “Your eyes are beautiful, Clint,” he says softly. “A wondrous shade of blue. It’d be a shame to obscure them again.”

Clint can only nod, watching their reflections. Loki places his hands on Clint’s hips and orders gently, “Stay with my brother’s team of heroes. Keep on as you have.”

Clint’s eyes aren’t clouded. He’s been cleared. He’s trusted.

Cognitive recalibration is a crock of shit, and even Natasha is fooled.

Loki turns Clint around, kisses him hard, and vanishes.

.

Thor, looking grave, announces at the team dinner that Loki escaped but no one knows where he’s gone. Even the All-Seeing gatekeeper can’t get a lock on him.

Clint’s eyes are the same blue they’ve been all his life and he reacts the most vocally, demanding to know how the greatest minds on Asgard failed so fucking hard.

A tiny, dying part of him is disappointed that Natasha falls for it. That same part used the style she’d taught him to lose on the helicarrier.

By the time he goes to bed, faking rage, that part is gone for good.

.

Of course Loki is in his dreams.

The shadows have swallowed Clint’s eyes, and they’ve never been so blue.


End file.
